


The Kristy Thomas Guide to High School Romance

by kbs_was_here



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbs_was_here/pseuds/kbs_was_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristy gets stuck in detention with Cokie Mason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kristy Thomas Guide to High School Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic I wrote back in 2005. Just moving it over from ffnet to this safe haven. Happy reading!

You'd think, by now, I'd have learned to keep my big mouth shut. You'd also think that someone with the kind of brain that cranks out such great ideas, I might be able to stay out of trouble. You'd think.

Apparently, I wasn't thinking very clearly when I found Cokie Mason's bra in the girl's locker room and strung it up on the Stoneybrook High School flagpole. If I had been, I might have considered that she'd retaliate, though I may not have figured out just how, exactly.

I'm not even sure how she managed to fill the Junk Bucket, my car that was passed down to me from my brothers, with inflated condoms. And, at the time, I wasn't sure what to do with all of them because I had to pick up my little brother, David Michael, and get him home in time for baseball practice. I get a long really well with kids, but even I had a hard time explaining to him and my other younger siblings why they kept finding slippery balloons under the seats. The hardest questions came from Karen, my nine-year old stepsister, who always seems to know way too much for her age. She knows the science of the birds and the bees and she knows that I, Kristy Thomas, do not participate in the standard definition of the way those things work.

Oh yeah. I like girls. Not boys.

Normally, I'm very open to any questions kids have about anything, but Karen does have a knack for asking the wrong thing at the wrong time. While I know that she's capable of understanding answers I might have, I also know that seven-year old Andrew and six year-old Emily Michelle won't.

Anyway, long story short, I told Karen we could talk about things later that weekend. I had enough on my mind, trying to figure out how to explain the weeklong detention I'd received for the bra incident. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I had to spend every one of those detention hours with Cokie Mason, because she got the same punishment for what she did to the poor innocent Junk Bucket. Actually, I'm surprised she wasn't able to weasel her way out of it. Cokie's always been the most popular girl in our class, even in middle school. She's perfect and pretty and gets everything she wants. Gag me.

So, even though I have to spend five whole hours in her presence, at least she's getting what she deserves for once in her life.

Mom wasn't really mad when I told her. She just sighed and told me I need to learn how to exercise discretion. Watson agreed with her, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. He might be my stepfather, but lately, I feel like he understands me a little more than mom does. Like last summer, when I came out to them, he just gave me a hug and said, "It's about time you figured it out." At the time, I thought it was kind of a silly thing to say. I mean, I had figured it out way before then. When I was thirteen, I kissed Dawn Schafer during a slumber party without the help of Truth or Dare or Spin the Bottle or anything. Now I realize that he was just being supportive, letting me know that he already knew and it was okay. But, even as much as he does understand, he and Mom couldn't figure out why I was making such a big deal about spending sixty whole minutes a day with Cokie Mason.

"She's just a girl. You see her at school all the time, as it is. Another hour isn't going to kill you," Watson said.

So much for understanding.

I threw up my hands. "But it's Cokie Mason!"

"Let the punishment fit the crime," said Mom.

I couldn't tell, but it looked like she was smirking.

"Let the punishment FIT the crime!" came Karen's voice from the living room. She sounded just like that scene in The Parent Trap where the twins get punished at summer camp.

She's been obsessed ever since Dawn sent her that movie for her birthday. The original, not the remake. Dawn's firmly against the remade version. Lindsay Lohan turned out okay, though. I wouldn't mind being firmly against her. What? I'm sixteen! Give me a break!

* * *

After dinner, I called my best friend, Mary Anne Spier. I had promised to fill her in on all the details of Mom and Watson's reactions. I told her what Mom said about exercising discretion.

"She might be right," said Mary Anne. "You have a bad habit of acting before you think."

I sat straight up on my bed. "How can you say that? You've known Cokie as long as I have. She's a nightmare. She deserves to be taped naked to the flagpole."

"She'd just get more popular."

I made a face. It was probably true. "Well, I may have to spend detention with her, but I don't have to like it."

"You're not supposed to like it. That's why it's a punishment."

"Ha ha."

We talked a while longer, until it was time for me to watch the kids while Mom and Watson went to a movie. When they were dating, I used to give him a hard time about trying too hard to get Mom to like him, but I'm really glad that he's the kind of guy who likes to take his wife out.

Karen wanted to stage a production of "Let's Get Together" from, yes, The Parent Trap, and wanted to play both twins, because that's what Hayley Mills does in the movie. If that wasn't enough, she wanted to record it and send the video to Dawn as a thank you. David Michael didn't care what she did, as long as he got to play Hecky because he dresses up like a gypsy and plays the violin.

Two hours later, I was uploading the video from my Sony Handycam so I could email it to Dawn. When I logged online, I noticed that she was already signed on to AIM.

 **KrusherThomas:** Hey!

 **CTCaliGirl:** Hey, what's up?

 **KrusherThomas:** I'm sending you something. And what are you doing home on a Saturday? I thought you'd be out partying or something.

 **CTCaliGirl:** It's only 730 here.

 **KrusherThomas:** Oh yeah, I always forget that.

 **CTCaliGirl:** Why are YOU home? Don't you have a hot date or something?

 **KrusherThomas:** I did. Group date. Their collective age is 20

 **CTCaliGirl:** lmao

 **KrusherThomas:** Besides, I'm kinda grounded.

 **CTCaliGirl:** Because of the bra thing?

 **KrusherThomas:** Yeah. Mary Anne told you?

 **CTCaliGirl:** Yep. Cokie totally had it coming.

 **KrusherThomas:** That's what I said!

 **CTCaliGirl:** That's lame that you're stuck at home all weekend.

 **KrusherThomas:** It's no big, really. I have some reading to do. It's the next week I'm dreading.

 **CTCaliGirl:** Ick. I would be, too. Oh, hey, Sunny's here. I'll talk to you later.

 **KrusherThomas:** K. Bye.

_CTCaliGirl has signed off._

* * *

Of all the days I've prayed for seventh period Geometry class to let out early, the one day it finally does is Day One of My Detention with Cokie. At least I had a few minutes to chat with Claudia Kishi in the hall before I started my sentence.

Cokie might be popular, but Claudia's the embodiment of cool. She's always had this super artistic sense of style and never cares what anyone else thinks about it. Today she was wearing a shirt she'd designed herself with these vintage golf pants she'd embroidered in crazy patterns. I had on my Krushers baseball shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylor All Stars. If I was going to be tormented, I might as well be comfortable.

Claudia whipped out her camera phone and snapped a picture of me.

"What was that for?" I asked.

She grinned. "I just want the rights to the last picture of you before you strangle Cokie Mason with the straps from her own Prada backpack."

"You'll write me letters while I'm in jail, right?"

"How about handmade postcards?"

It was just like Claudia to pick something that involved less actual writing and more artsy stuff. "Deal."

The bell rang, cueing me to the detention room. Cokie was already there, sitting at a desk on the far wall. Fortunately, there were a couple other kids in there with us, so I took a seat next to Alan Gray, letting his big head block my view of Cokie.

Alan leaned over to me. "Hey, Thomas. You ever seen a guy with elephantiasis of the nuts?"

I just rolled my eyes. Alan's in detention all the time and always tries to make it just like that 80's movie with Molly Ringwald and the coach from The Mighty Ducks. But even at his most annoying, I was pretty immune to Alan and decided that detention wouldn't be so bad after all.

Wrong.

Mr. McCaffrey pulled Cokie and me aside and told us we'd been assigned to reorganize and restock the second floor supply closet that had been repainted last week. Just us. Alone. Together.

This wasn't detention. This was hell.

* * *

Monday didn't turn out so bad, mostly because we didn't speak to each other, except to say, "I'm putting this box here" and "Hey, you almost put that on my foot." Tuesday would have been fine if Cokie had listened to my idea about putting the copier paper on the bottom shelf so that it wouldn't be top-heavy. Instead, she gave me this annoyed sigh and told me I could put it wherever I wanted, but I'd have to move it myself.

Just to prove that I know what I'm doing when it comes to organization, I got there ten minutes early on Wednesday and pulled everything off the shelves so I could restart the Kristy Thomas way. Apparently, when Cokie said to put things wherever I wanted them, she really meant to leave them where they were because she was not happy when she saw the state of the supply closet.

"What are you doing!"

I couldn't help snickering because her voice was so squeaky. I cleared my throat.

"I'm putting stuff away."

"We just put all this stuff away yesterday."

"Well, I changed my mind about how to do it."

"We're supposed to be doing this together."

"Then get over here and help me."

"That's not what I meant."

Okay, by this point she was really starting to get on my nerves. She was just standing in the doorway, arms folded over the front of her striped polo tank top, giving staring at me like I wasn't trying to do my best at getting this job done. I was hoping if we got it perfectly organized by Thursday, maybe Mr. McCaffrey would let us skip the last day's detention, or at least let us spend Friday in the classroom with everyone else.

"Fine, Mason, what do you propose we do?" I dropped the packages of number two pencils back into the box. "Should we organize things by prettiest color or do you just want to put all the heavy stuff on the top shelf so it falls down and kills anyone who comes looking for Scantron sheets?"

I knew I was being mean, but I didn't care. Who did she think she was, anyway? Just because a girl's popular and gets manicures and looks good in just about anything and always smells really, really good doesn't mean she knows jack about getting things done.

She narrowed her eyes at me and grabbed the closest box to her.

"That's the—," I began. "—box that's holding the door open."

The door swung shut.

Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "We aren't, like, trapped in here, are we?"

I thought about saying yes, telling her that the door only opened from the outside and that we only had a limited supply of oxygen and if she wanted to live she should sit quietly in the corner and only take slow, shallow breaths.

In fact, I was really surprised I didn't tell her that.

"Nah, it was just a little warm."

"Oh."

She just stood there, holding the box.

"Open it back up."

"Bite me."

I took a step toward her, trying to get to the door to reopen it, but we got caught in one of those moments where one person tries to pass, and the other tries to move out of the way, but they keep moving the wrong direction.

"Christ, Cokie, get out of the way."

During one of those miscalculated sidesteps, I thought of Alan Gray.

"How about you get out of MY way?"

He used to torment me all the time, especially in middle school.

"Look, I just want to open the door."

And then one day it turned out that he acted like that because he liked me.

"I'm carrying this box."

You know, typical immature boy stuff.

"Here." I took the box out her hands and shoved it on the shelf. "So, MOVE."

Immature I can handle.

"YOU move."

Boys, not so much.

"HEY, I'll move YOU if I have to."

Girls, on the other hand…

"Go ahead and try it, Thomas!"

Remember all that stuff about not thinking before I act? This was definitely one of those times. I put my hands on either side of her waist fully intending to move her out of the way. Instead, I moved her closer to me. Yeah, it's crazy, I know. Even crazier? I kissed her. Not one of those schmoopy Gone With the Wind kisses where the lady lifts up her foot, either. This was an aggressive battle for world domination kind of kiss. And I say "battle" because she was kissing back.

My mind telegraphed a bit of information to my lips. You're kissing Cokie Mason. I think she was getting the same message, only with my name inserted at the end, because we both pulled back at the same time.

"I, uh…"

My eyes shifted down to the floor. Me? Speechless? That was new. Cokie's legs looked really great in that skirt.

"We should…"

She looked over at the shelves. I nodded.

For the better part of the next hour, I focused on the school supplies in front of me and never allowed myself to look back over at her. I thought maybe if I couldn't see her, nothing else would happen. If I weren't able to pay any attention to the way her hair perfectly framed her face, I wouldn't want to kiss her. Why did I even want to kiss her in the first place! This is the girl who took so much pleasure in tormenting my best friends and me. Torment, good. Kissing, bad.

Or good. Very, very cherry vanilla lip-gloss good. Or was it raspberry vanilla? I wondered if I should check again, and risked one tiny glance over at her. Big mistake. I happened to catch her just as she was tucking her hair behind her ear, absently chewing on her lip as she stacked boxes of dry erase pens. My mind told me to go back to stacking Scantrons, but the rest of me wasn't listening. I was still staring at Cokie. Not creepy staring. Just looking at her. She noticed I was watching her.

"What?"

Thankfully, the bell rang, freeing me from whatever temporary insanity I was suffering.

"Nothing." I quickly shook my head. "I'm… it's nothing."

Once again, she was between me and the door. This time, though, she just stepped out of the way.

"Go ahead. I'm sure you're aching to get out of here."

She actually sounded upset that I was trying to leave.

I shrugged. "It's detention. You're not supposed to want to hang around."

She didn't say anything else. I stepped past her and reached for the doorknob.

"Kristy?"

"Huh?"

I hadn't even fully turned around and she was already kissing me. It wasn't as rough and demanding as our earlier encounter, it was slower and more controlled.

And it was definitely cherry vanilla.

"Hey, Mr. McCaf—HOLY GOD!"

I don't take pride in the fact that I can recognize Alan Gray's voice in any given situation, but I can. I hadn't even heard the door open, but there he was, gawking in the doorway. Before he had a chance to run, I pinned him against the supply shelves.

"A word, to anyone, and the entire varsity soccer team walks over your back, IN CLEATS. Got it?"

"Y-yeah. Okay."

I let him go. When I turned back around, Cokie was already gone.

* * *

I had to tell Mary Anne. I couldn't tell Mary Anne. I had to tell someone. Mary Anne's my best friend and we tell each other everything. I had to tell her. But I couldn't.

I set the phone down for the tenth time. If I was going to tell her, I had to do it in person. Then maybe she'd just club me over the head with something heavy and put me out of my misery.

When I pulled up to Mary Anne's house, Logan Bruno was sitting out on the front steps. Logan's been her boyfriend since he moved here from Kentucky in junior high, give or take their occasional "for good" break-ups. They're one of those sweet sappy couples that make you a little nauseous but I'm happy for them.

Logan waved at me as I climbed out of the Junk Bucket, then lobbed a football at me. "Hey, Kristy."

"Hey." I caught the ball, then sent it back to him. "Mary Anne's not home?"

"Not yet. She's babysittin' for the Pikes till five-thirty." He stood up so we could keep throwing the ball back and forth.

Most of us worked part-time jobs, but Mary Anne was one of the few of us who still babysat regularly. There was a time where that's all we did. When we were twelve, I got this great idea that we, along with Claudia and her best friend, Stacey McGill, should start the Baby-Sitters Club, which was pretty much a one-stop shop for parents to find babysitters. Dawn and Logan both joined when they moved here, but Logan was only an associate member, meaning he didn't have to come to all the meetings and listen to embarrassing girl talk. Frankly, if I had to put up with it, I don't see why he couldn't. Anyway, I worked ten hours a week at the Stoneybrook Batting Cages, Claudia had landed working in an after school art program for elementary school kids, and Stacey, our resident math whiz, was an algebra tutor at Stoneybrook Middle School. I don't know how she stands it. Junior high seemed to go on forever and I couldn't wait to get out of there.

"Are you guys going out tonight?"

"Nah. Just droppin' by. I can go if you two need to talk."

I shook my head. "I just wanted to hang out."

I did want to talk to Mary Anne, but I didn't want to butt in on their quality time. Her dad is fairly strict (though he did loosen up a lot when he married Dawn's mom) and I figured they might want to, like, make out or something before he got home. Not that I think about them making out. They're both good-looking people but... yeah. No.

"Hey, Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever, like, done something and then felt bad about it afterward, not because you thought it was wrong, but because you didn't think it was wrong?"

"Look, Kristy, if you're worried about this Cokie thing, don't let it get to you. Heck, I'd have done the same thing if I had the chance."

I fumbled the football. "You... what?" I thought about kicking his ass on Mary Anne's behalf.

"Well, sure. She's always caused you guys nothin' but trouble. Though, I don't know if I'd have thought to run it up the flagpole. That was pretty clever."

Oh. That. "Heh. Thanks."

"What are you guys up to?" Mary Anne rode her bike up the driveway.

I shrugged. "Just stopped by to say hi."

She passed her bike to Logan who lifted it up onto the porch. "We're just gonna watch TV or something, you wanna come in?"

"It's okay. I need to swing by the cages and check my schedule, anyway."

I sat in the Junk Bucket long after they'd gone inside the house, not really sure where I wanted to go.

* * *

I got my wish. It turned out that Alan Gray was coming in to tell us that Mr. McCaffrey thought we'd done enough work on the supply closet and were free to spend the final two days in regular detention. I asked if I could pass on the offer.

"I just think that if I'm going to do a job, I might as well finish it."

Mr. McCaffrey shrugged. "It's your choice, Kristy." He smiled a little. "I must admit, I'm quite pleased with the progress you and Marguerite are making. Most students don't take much pride in things like this."

Any other day I would have snickered at the use of Cokie's real name. Instead, I just said, "I'm not most students."

I felt bad for misleading him. My real motive was avoiding Cokie.

Sometimes, my plans work out perfectly, like the Babysitters Club. Other times, they kind of blow up in my face.

The last thing I was expecting to find in the supply closet was Cokie, especially Cokie hard at work stacking boxes of manila folders. I suddenly realized what Mr. McCaffrey was talking about when he mentioned out progress. Cokie must have told him something similar to my story about organizational pride. She'd even dressed the part, wearing (low rise) jeans and a (still girlishly trendy) t-shirt instead of her usual short skirt and flimsy top.

She glanced up at the door. "What do you want?"

"I'm here for detention, same as you."

"Well, you can go back to the classroom. We don't have to be in here, anymore."

"So what are you still doing here?"

"I just wanted to..."

"... take a little pride in organization?"

"I was going to say I wanted to stay away from you."

"Oh." Funny how much we think alike for hating each other so much. I shut the door behind me and kneeled on the floor next to her. "Look, about yesterday," I began.

"Whatever, Kristy. It's fine. It didn't happen."

I rocked back on my knees. "Is that how you want it?"

"It's obviously how you want it."

"When did I say that?"

"When you practically threatened Alan's life over it."

"I was just... I didn't think you'd want..."

"How do you even know what I'd want? You don't even know me."

"I know you've made things hellish for my friends and me on several occasions since junior high. And that you've had it out for me since, what, the third grade?"

She rolled her eyes. "You've treated me the exact same way."

"Only because you kept trying to sabotage everything all the time."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so damn cocky about the fact that you're good at everything, I wouldn't have to."

"I am not cocky!" I jumped to my feet. "And I'm not the one who parades around flaunting the fact that I'm all hot and popular."

She stood up, glaring at me. "No, you just plaster the neighborhood with flyers about whatever brilliant idea you've had lately so everyone can marvel at the Great Kristin Amanda Thomas." There was a smirk on her lips as she said my full name. There was also more of that lip-gloss.

"Whatever you say," I stepped closer so we were practically nose to nose. "Marguerite."

She was still glaring, but something about her face changed. "Kristy?"

"What?"

"Don't..." Her voice was just above a whisper. "...call me that."

I've made out with a lot of girls. Well, maybe not a lot. But more than a few. It's one of the perks of having been on the varsity teams since I was a freshman. There are lots of post game parties populated with bi-curious girls looking for new experiences. But none of those make-out sessions compared to kissing Cokie Mason. Maybe it was because we'd hated each other for so long. I mean, they make movies about this exact kind of thing all the time.

Unlike the previous day, we didn't stop after the first kiss. Instead, we spent the hour letting our lips work out the differences between us. By the time the bell rang, I wondered if I had lost my mind, because I wanted to stay in solitary detention with Marguerite "Cokie" Mason.

* * *

I spent the better part of the evening digging through my closet, trying to find the club notebooks we kept for the BSC. They always included phone lists of all our members, clients and, on occasion, anyone we might be prank calling during a sleepover.

The Mason's weren't listed in the phone book. I wasn't even really sure what I'd say if I called her, anyway.

"Hey, this is your former nemesis. We made out, so I guess we should go for coffee or something."

I flung myself onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how tomorrow's detention would go.

Turns out, there wouldn't be detention. Halfway through the school day, a water mane broke and started flooding the campus and the principal cancelled the rest of our classes.

Claudia, Stacey, Mary Anne and I met in the parking lot, trying to figure out what to do with out newfound free time. We climbed into the Junk Bucket and decided to head to the diner in town. It was nice to be hanging out, just the four of us, since we rarely ever got a chance to go out together. Between my games, Claud's art stuff, Stacey's tutoring sessions, and Mary Anne's QT with Logan, it's hard to find time. We did manage to get together every other Friday for our Gay/Straight Alliance meetings, but that's with other kids and not the same as just having fun with your best friends.

By the time we'd sat down at our table, I'd almost forgotten about Cokie. Not that I could actually forget what happened, but I wasn't freaking out over that to do about it.

"Do you guys have any plans for the Halloween Hop?" Claudia asked from behind her menu.

Stacey shook her head. "I was really hoping they'd stop calling it that after eighth grade."

"Aw, you're just upset that Sam's not around this year." I gave her a fake sympathetic face.

Stacey's liked my older brother Sam ever since she moved to Stoneybrook. They always used to pretend they weren't really interested in each other, but when Stacey got into high school, Sam started asking her to every dance. But he graduated last year, so poor Stace doesn't have a built-in date to all the school events. She lucked out on the Homecoming Dance because she was visiting her Dad in New York City that weekend.

"Well, Kristy, maybe you can give me pointers on going stag. Unless you're going with Alan Gray."

I made a face at her. She was right, though. I usually went to most dances with my friends, since most of my dating experiences lasted an average of two weeks. Then my brain gave me the silly notion that I might actually have a date this time around. I tried to shake it off. Cokie Mason would not want to go to the Halloween Hop or any other public school sponsored event with me. Right?

Fortunately, Claudia changed the subject and took my mind off my potential Cokie dilemma. "I was thinking that we should have a GSA sponsored Halloween party. You know, especially for the younger kids."

We had finally put together the GSA last year after talking about it for a good six months. It's comprised of the four of us, Logan, Alan (who might be a pain in the ass, but he's actually a decent guy, just don't ever tell him I said so), Abby Stevenson (former BSC member), Mallory Pike and Jessi Ramsey. Mal and Jessi were also in the BSC and are two years younger than us. We also have middle school members: Charlotte Johanssen, Byron Pike (Mal's brother), Vanessa Pike (Mal's sister... there's a lot of Pikes), and a couple other kids who don't always show up every week.

Claudia continued, "And I was thinking it could be the Saturday before Halloween since it falls on a Monday this year and I know a lot of them are working at the elementary school carnival that day."

Mary Anne nodded. "That's a great idea, Claud!"

We all agreed that we'd pitch the idea this afternoon at our meeting. Like most community clubs, we meet in the Stoneybrook Rec Center, but it took a little doing to get them to let us meet there. Stoneybrook's a small town and while most of the people here are pretty easy going, a youth organization with "Gay" in the title, was not at the top of the city council's list of things to approve. I've put together all kinds of clubs over the years and I know all it takes is filling out a form and making sure that a club just like it doesn't already exist. But in the case of the GSA, we had to get letters of recommendation from two members of any of the municipal boards. Fortunately, Watson is on the small business board and Dr. Johanssen, Charlotte's mother, is on the hospital board. they were both more than happy to help us get the GSA off the ground.

I was really excited about Claudia's idea. If I'd have put two and two together when I was twelve and realized that I would have rather gone with someone like Stacey (okay, she's not so much my type, but she's totally hot) rather than Alan to my first Halloween Hop, it would have been nice to have a safe fun place to go.

I was so excited, in fact, that I actually did manage to entirely put Cokie out of my mind as we discussed the details of our plan. Little did I know, in about three hours, she'd walk right back in.

* * *

Three minutes to go. I always like to start meetings exactly when they're supposed to begin. When we ran the BSC, it was five-thirty on the dot. In the case of the GSA it was four o'clock. Claudia, Stacey, and Mary-Anne are all used to my obsessive-compulsive time-keeping, but everyone else is still getting used to it. Charlotte, our junior treasurer, always wants to start early and Alan's notorious for showing up two and a half minutes late. I know he does it on purpose.

I could tell Claud was itching to start the meeting and share her Halloween idea with everyone else because she kept checking the time between doodling ghosts and witches all over her notepad. I was about to tell her that she could informally start filling people in when Cokie walked into the room.

"Oh crap," Mary Anne muttered under her breath.

"You think she's trying to shut us down?" Stacey whispered to Claudia.

Claudia shrugged. "She's evil, but I don't think she's that evil."

I slipped out of my chair. "I'll... um... go see what she wants."

I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I walked over to Cokie. I'm sure they were expecting a fist-fight or something.

She hadn't come in much further than the doorway. "Hey."

I'm pretty sure they weren't expecting the involuntary goofy half-smile that appeared on my face.

"Hey. What, um, are you doing here?"

"This is a public community club, is it not?"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes it is."

"So... is there assigned seating or can I just sit wherever?"

"Wh-wherever you want." I gestured to the room.

Everyone was still watching us.

"Where do you sit?"

"In the, uh... that chair. Unless you want to sit there. Then I can sit somewhere else."

Mary Anne coughed loudly. I ignored her.

Cokie smiled and laughed, no, giggled, and said, "I think I can find my own seat, thanks."

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm la-" Alan walked right into me, knocking me into Cokie and sending all three of us tumbling over each other.

In that moment I realized three things:

I had been flirting with Cokie in front of everyone.

Alan Gray really has the worst timing off all people, ever.

I was practically three minutes late starting our meeting.

I cleared my throat as I pulled myself to my feet, then offered Cokie my hand to help her up, trying to look like I was just being considerate and not the painfully smitten dork that I knew I was quickly becoming.

"I'd like to call this meeting of the Stoneybrook Gay/Straight Alliance to order." I hurried to my seat and opened my notebook. "We have a... visitor... Ms. Cokie Mason."

Cokie eased into an empty chair and hesitantly waved at the rest of the group.

"And now, um, Claudia has the floor."

I sighed in relief as Claud jumped at the chance talk about the party, glad to have the focus on someone else for a few minutes. But even with the meeting in session, I knew it had to end eventually, and I'd have some explaining to do to my friends.

* * *

"Enemies closer, right? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You're plotting something. Some serious revenge?" Claudia was pacing, rambling on like she was trying to solve one of the mysteries from her stacks of mystery novels she was always reading.

I had hoped that maybe everyone would be gone if I took long enough walking Cokie to her car. We chatted for a few minutes about the GSA. She actually seemed interested in the club and said that she'd thought about coming in the past, except she had a history of conflict the club president.

"But I think maybe I'm getting over that."

"Yeah?"

She smiled as she leaned against her driver's side door. If I'd really thought about it, I could have told everyone I was just trying to get close to her car and they probably would have believed me. Cokie drove a mint condition '69 Mustang fastback, with two white racing stripes cutting through the deep blue metallic paint. Stick shift, too. Which meant she probably knew what she was doing behind the wheel.

"Keep playing nice and maybe I'll let you drive it sometime."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "We'll see."

With that, she slipped into the car and shut the door. I leaned down into the open window.

"You know, I don't have..."

Before I could finish, she grabbed my hand and jotted her number on it.

"Later, Thomas."

When I walked back into the rec center, I found out I'd been half-right about people leaving. Only Claudia, Stacey, and Mary Anne were waiting for me.

"So, what's this big plan to bring down the Wicked Bitch of the East?" Stacey consulted the record book. "Do you need money, because we have a big of a surplus in the treasury..."

I put up my hands. "Guys, it's not..."

Mary Anne was being very quiet. Normally, that's not unusual, but this quiet was speaking directly to me.

I sighed. "It's not like that."

"So, how is it?" Stacey set the record book down.

"It's... well... you know how I had detention with Cokie this week?"

They nodded.

"And, while we're totally been at each other's throats since elementary school and have had nothing but seething hatred for each other... we kind of... you know, bonded?"

Claudia looked confused. Stacey thought for a moment, then her eyes got wide. Mary Anne glared at me and stormed out of the room. I looked from Stace to Claud, then at the door where Mary Anne had just exited. Stacey nodded at me, letting me know she'd fill Claudia in. I gave her a thankful smile and chased after my best friend.

* * *

It took three blocks to catch up to Mary Anne. She may be quiet and bookish, but the girl's quick as hell.

"Mary Anne?"

She kept walking.

"Come on. I'm gonna keep following you until you talk to me."

She still didn't stop.

"Look, I know it's weird..."

"When did it happen?" She stopped so suddenly, we nearly re-enacted Alan's entrance into the meeting.

"This week. That's what I was saying."

"Yeah, but which day?"

"Wednesday."

She started walking again.

"Mary Anne!"

"What do you want me to say, Kristy?" she asked as she turned back around. "You obviously didn't think it was important enough to tell me, so what am I supposed to say?"

"I wanted to tell you. God, I dialed your number a dozen times before driving myself over to tell you in person, but then you were busy with Logan..."

"That's why you came by." Her head nodded slightly in realization.

"I just, I mean, I didn't know HOW to tell you. I wasn't sure what has going on, myself. Heck, I STILL don't really know. And I didn't know what you'd say or how you'd react or if you'd hate me for maybe liking her because of all the hell she gave us in the past."

"Kristy," her face softened, "You remember the night you told me you were gay?"

I nodded. It was the summer after eighth grade. She already knew I'd kissed Dawn at that slumber party a few months earlier, but we'd never really talked about what it meant until that night. We'd stayed up late watching Nick-at-Nite and I just told her, during an episode of Bewitched, that I was gay. Boom, like that. I wasn't worried about what she'd say, because she was Mary Anne, my super all time best friend.

I could see what she was getting at. "I'm sorry. I guess I just kinda freaked."

Mary Anne hugged me, then shook her head and smiled.

"What?"

"Well, it is kind of weird. I mean, come on, Cokie Mason?"

"I'm never living this one down, am I?"

"Nope."

"What if I said I was just trying to get behind the wheel of her car?"

"I'd say that you're either a glutton for punishment or terrible at euphemisms for sex. And that being said, I'd like to never think about you and Cokie having sex, ever again."

"No one's having sex!"

"Yet."

"We've really only made out one and a half times."

"That's how it starts."

"Mary Anne?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thomas-Mason?"

"Shut up."

* * *

By Sunday afternoon I still hadn't called Cokie. Don't get me wrong, I WANTED to call her about thirty seconds after she peeled out of the community center parking lot on Friday. However, as things always seem to go, there was always something keeping me from picking up the phone and sweet-talking my childhood nemesis.

Friday night was another baby-sitting gig with my family. Ever since Sam and Charlie headed off to college, there's no one else to share the sibling charges with. Not that I mind. I just have less free time than I'd like sometimes.

Saturday morning was spent at David Michael's little league game, where I almost chewed out the opposing team's coach for being a total asshat. After that was six hours at the Stoneybrook batting cages, making seven bucks an hour disinfecting helmets and explaining the token to dollar exchange rate to every third customer because the apparently can't read any of the twenty seven signs that answer all the very same questions they like to ask me. I thought about calling her when I got home, but I remembered her saying something about an aunt or something coming in to town for dinner that weekend, and I didn't want my first call to be some kind of family dinner faux paus.

Sunday was all about barely sleeping in and making breakfast for the kids while Mom and Watson went to some community brunch thing.

So, by one-thirty, I was more than ready to take full advantage of some Kristy Time and locked myself in my bedroom, phone in hand.

It wasn't until the second ring when I started considering just how bizarre the situation really was. Here, I, Kristy Thomas, was calling Cokie Mason with no intent of prank calling or setting up some later practical joke at her expense. I was calling because I wanted to, because she wanted me to. I got so caught up in thinking about it, I almost didn't hear her answer.

"Hello?"

"Oh! Hey!" I realized I should probably identify myself. "It's Kristy."

There was a soft laugh from the other end. "I could tell."

"Oh. Well... so, hi. Sorry I didn't call sooner."

"I thought maybe you'd either washed your hand without writing down the number or you'd just decided the idea was too crazy and gave up."

"Nah."

"No, you haven't washed your hands since Friday?"

"Funny." I glanced over at the bulletin board over my computer where I'd securely tacked the post-it with her number on it. "I was denying the latter."

"So, you don't think this is weird?"

"I don't know. It is kind of, you know, unexpected."

"It gives things an exciting edge."

"Does this mean I have to stop running your bra up the flagpole?"

"Depends on how the first date goes."

I smiled. She actually wanted to go on a date. With me. "First date, huh?"

"Yeah, but you're gonna have to do the asking since I gave you my number. That's how it works."

"I have dated before, you know."

"It's not like I could tell. You take so damn long to ask a girl out."

"I didn't know there was a time limit."

"Hey, I'm quite the hottie. I could have dates lined up all week."

I sat up. "Do you?" In the middle of all this, I hadn't considered competition.

"Maybe."

"Well, uh, what are you doing this Saturday?"

"I'm busy."

"Oh."

"So are you."

"I am?"

"I was at the meeting this Friday, where were you?"

Oh, yeah. The GSA party. "My mind's a little frazzled right now, okay?"

"Nice to know I have that effect on you."

"Who says it has anything to do with you?"

"Who says it doesn't?"

"Good point." I studied the calendar on my desk. "How about Friday night?" As soon as I said it, I immediately gave myself a mental kick in the brain. All joking aside, Cokie was pretty damn popular and probably booked every Friday through graduation.

"Around seven?"

Or... maybe not. "Sure. I'll pick you up?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

I nodded, a little dazed from how smoothly everything had just played out, then I realized she couldn't see me because we were on the phone. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

* * *

On Monday morning, I was ready for the week to drag on forever because I had so much happening the following weekend. Thankfully, it didn't. Because of the party on Saturday, I was scheduled to work Tuesday and Thursday nights. Wednesday, Stacey and Claudia came over so we could work on our Halloween costumes together. (Mary Anne and Logan were busy. I didn't ask what they were doing.) Before I knew it, the Friday afternoon sun was glinting off the hood of the Junk Bucket as I cursed at the car in front of me for not moving fast enough because I needed to get home because, dammit, I had a date that night.

I'd talked to Cokie a couple times during the week, mostly on the phone. We don't really have any classes together and we have different lunch periods. It's funny. A month ago, I would have been ecstatic about that. Now I was mentally going over what I'd be wearing that night on my first date with her. I, Kristy Thomas, queen of jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, was worried about fashion... and for Cokie Mason's sake, no less.

As I rounded the corner, I saw Stacey's convertible VW Bug parked in front of my house. Stacey, Claudia, and Mary Anne emerged from the car as I pulled into the driveway.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Claudia laughed. "You really thought we were going to let you go out on this date without our help?"

I made a face at her. "What makes you think I need help?"

Stacey hooked a finger in one of the belt loops on my jeans and tugged on it. "Is this one of the articles of clothing you considered wearing tonight?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

We all exchanged looks and then laughed. It really helps to have friends who know so well. Even if it is a little creepy sometimes.

It turns out that they'd been planning this little makeover all week. Claudia was in charge of fashion, Stacey was taking on hair and make-up, and Mary Anne had to approve all of the evening's planned date activities. I was the star of my very own episode of Straight Eye for the Gay Girl.

At first I was worried that Claudia might try to dress me in something more suited for a Vegas showgirl. You think I'm kidding? That girl could sew costumes for Celine Dion AND Wayne Newton with the amount of sequins she goes through in a year. Fortunately, she was thinking more "Kristy" and less "Sigfried" and picked out these pinstripe slacks with a white button up shirt. She'd even brought me some cool matching argyle socks.

Stacey announced that there would be no ponytails during the course of the evening as she laid out her arsenal of hair products and devices across my bathroom counter. It always amazes me how much work it takes to get hair to look "natural". Same goes for make up. But Stacey knows just what touches to put where and, in the end, I looked fantastic. My hair was down with a little bit of curl to give it some body, but not so much that I looked like one of the old Charlie's Angels or something. The make up was subtle, mostly just stuff on the eyes, which I always forget about until I rub one of them and end up with eyeliner on my hand. I'd have to remember not to do that.

Mary Anne already knew I'd made a seven-thirty reservation at the Italian place downtown.

"Where are you going after that?" she asked.

"Um, I was thinking a movie?"

She scrunched up her face in disapproval. "A movie?"

"Is that... bad?" I HAD been on dates to the movies before. I didn't see a problem.

"It's just... hard to talk to someone in a movie. And this is kind of an important date."

Huh. Yeah. I guess she had a point. "So, what do you suggest?"

"Coffee? Ice cream?" She giggled. "Logan and I once went to karaoke."

"I'd like to have a second date, thanks."

She laughed. "Yeah, you're right. I've heard you sing and that's enough to end a date, for sure."

I flung one of my pillows at her. But she was right. I needed to think of something original. And fast.

* * *

I, Kristin Amanda Thomas, never run short on ideas. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a picture of my face on the "great ideas" entry in the Wikipedia. So, then, why was I frantically drumming my fingers on the steering wheel of the Junk Bucket, half a mile from Cokie's house, drawing a complete and total blank about what to do on our date that was about to begin in six minutes?

I'll tell you why: Because Cokie Mason exists to drive me crazy.

We couldn't just do regular date things like dinner and a movie because she's not a regular girl. I was even beginning to doubt my reservations at Eduardo's. I silently cursed Mary Anne as I pulled in front of the Mason's house. If she hadn't gone on about coffee and karaoke I wouldn't be beating myself up over my plans.

"Well, Thomas, I guess it's time to improvise," I muttered, taking one last look at myself in the car mirror before grabbing the store bought spring bouquet off the seat next to me. Crap, what was I thinking? I couldn't give Cokie supermarket flowers. Could I? This internal debate would have continued all the way up the walkway to the front door had she not already been out of the house and moving toward me, lightly tossing and catching something in her hand.

"Hey. Hi. Wow." I had capped my vocal capabilities for the next several minutes.

She looked... well, hot. Effortlessly hot. She was wearing one of those knee length airy skirts and, yet another, one of her signature clingy shirts.

I realized I'd been staring at her. And then I noticed she was staring at me.

"Everything okay?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't absently spilled something all over myself.

"Yeah, I... just..." She grinned. "You clean up nice, Thomas. Really nice."

"Thanks. And you... you look... wow." My brain kicked itself for not coming up with better words. I held out the flowers. "Official Date Flowers for one Miss Cokie Mason."

She smiled as she took them, then handed me the thing she'd been tossing around earlier. Even if I hadn't been looking at it, I'd have known what it was. It was a Rawlings competition grade pony league raised seam baseball.

I cocked my head.

She shrugged. "I figured Kristy Thomas didn't do flowers." Her hand slipped into mine. "So, where're we going?"

Damn. I still hadn't figured that part out. And it was really hard to think through the Cokie induced goofy girl crazy haze that had engulfed my brain.

"It's, um, a surprise?"

* * *

It was a surprise, all right. I mean, I certainly wasn't expecting to hear the Junk Bucket make a KERPLUNK KERTHUNK sound and then slow to a stop on Route 26.

I groaned. "Well, this is—"

"Normally a third date kind of thing?" Cokie leaned over to look at the gauges on the dashboard.

"Let's see if we live through the first one before we start talking about number three." I rolled up my sleeves then pulled the hood release. "Be right back."

I climbed out of the car and lifted the hood, which revealed nothing because it was dark and I'd forgotten the flashlight. Cokie, however, never seemed to forget anything, because she appeared right next to me, shining my Maglite onto the engine.

"It was under the seat. Figured you could use it."

I was about to thank her and have her hold the flashlight while I figured out what the heck had happened to the car, when she walked away, taking the light with her.

"Cokie?" I peeked around the side of the car.

She was scanning the ground with the Maglite.

"Cokie, we didn't drive over anything. I think we just..."

She bent down and picked something up. "Busted a fan belt?"

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Just automatically know stuff."

"You're not the only one with a quick brain in this town." She smirked as she slid back into her seat.

"Touche." I checked my watch. Seven-fifteen. We were going to miss our reservation. If we even ended up going to Eduardo's. I still had no idea what to do with the evening. Not that it mattered at this point.

I collapsed into the driver's seat and flipped open my cell phone. Mary Anne would know how to tackle the Date Damage control. But Stacey had a car and might be able to pick us up. Great. Picked up from my own date. That's classy. I dialed Mary Anne's number.

"Kristy?" God bless customizable ringtones.

"Hey, I need some advice." There seemed to be a lot of noise in the background.

"Hold on. Guys turn it down. I can't hear." A muffled voice asked who was on the phone. "It's Kristy. She says she needs advice."

"What are you doing?"

"We're just hanging out while you're on your hot date."

"Tell her my advice is to definitely kiss on the first date!" came Claudia's voice through the phone.

Stacey's voice immediately followed. "They already kissed, dork!"

"GUYS!" Mary Anne shouted so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Even Cokie flinched. "Sorry, Kristy. So, what's up?"

"We're, um, stuck. Fan belt busted and we're stuck on Route 26."

"Oh, wow, I'm so sorry. Um, I'll see what we can do and then call you back." She paused. "Meanwhile, you guys should just, like, listen to the radio or something."

"Okay. Thanks." Boredom was the least of my worries. I was more concerned with every ghost story I'd ever heard about poor young couples stranded on the roadside. I clicked the phone shut and glanced over at Cokie.

"Any luck?"

"They're gonna call back."

We sat in silence until she reached over and switched on the radio filling the car with oldies hits. There's only one station the Junk Bucket radio will pick up with any clarity and that's WCLS, Stoneybrook's home of all the classic hits.

I rested my head against the steering wheel. "Sorry about this," I mumbled.

"Don't be." Cokie's hand touched my shoulder. "I mean, hey, it's definitely an original date."

I sat up. "Yeah, until we're ax murdered or attacked by the guy with the hook."

"Is that how you sweet-talk all your dates?"

"Oh yeah. Works like a charm."

"And now, this one goes out to Kristy and Cokie." I turned up the radio after hearind our names. "Your friends hope your date is, er, dibbly fresh."

Barry White's "You're My Everything" began to play.

I looked over at Cokie, her eyes already giving away the case of the giggles that was about to begin. She only got about three or four giggles out before I realized it had been an entire week since we'd last kissed.

* * *

We made up for the seven days of non-kissing in about seven minutes, and then started racking up a sizeable store of extra kissage, in the unlikely event that we ever missed another day. There was also an abundance of touching, fingertips memorizing the texture shirts, painfully trying not to move too fast too soon. While that may sound totally suave and sexy, let me also inform you that my hair got caught in her earring and that we managed to knock heads at least twice during all that touching. But, for the most part, we were definitely making out. And, really, even if we had noticed the approaching car pull to a stop on the opposite side of the road, I doubt that we would have even been able to see it through the Bucket's foggy windows.

**TAPTAPTAP**

Cokie and I bolted upright. Images of the hook handed serial killer flashed through my mind. Cokie must have been thinking something similar because her hand immediately began groping around the floor for the MagLite.

"Uh... Who is it?" Gimme a break, it was the best I could do.

Despite the possible imagined horrors of the situation, Cokie snickered.

"Kristy? It's Dr. Johannsen," came the voice through the window.

I sighed, relieved that we weren't about to be dismembered by Leather face, and rolled down the window. "Hey, Dr. J."

She peered into the car, concerned. "Stacey knew we were coming back this way from Stamford tonight and Charlotte spotted the station wagon. Are you girls okay?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Just had some engine trouble."

Cokie's head bobbed in agreement. I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

"Well, come on with us. I'll give you a ride back home."

I was about to ask if she could drop us off at the restaurant and then I'd get a cab for the ride back.

Instead, Cokie interjected saying, "That'd be perfect. Thanks, Dr. Johannsen."

I rolled up the window, bummed that Cokie was ready to end our date so soon. "Was this that bad?"

"What? Oh, Kristy, no..." she took my hand. "We're both going to my house."

"But what about...?" Oh, who was I kidding? I had blanked on any plans for the evening.

"What about what?"

Cokie flipped down the mirror, fixing her severely smudged lipstick. I followed her example and wiped away the pink smudges that had transferred onto my own face.

"Nothing."

I locked up the Junk Bucket and led Cokie to the Johannsen's SUV. We climbed into the seats behind the Dr. and Charlotte.

Charlotte turned to greet me. "Hey, Kristy! We found the finishing touches of my costume for the party."

It was pretty exciting to see Charlotte so involved with the GSA, especially the social functions. She was terribly she when she was younger, and while she's still not the most outgoing kid in the world, she's certainly grown.

"Cool! So, what're you going to be?"

"A Ravenclaw." She passed a blue and gray scarf back to me.

Cokie cocked an eyebrow. "I thought everyone wanted to be a Gryffindor."

"They just want to do that because that's what's popular. What they don't realize is that some Gryffindors are so dense, they can't see past their own faces. Ravenclaws are all about brains and wit."

I playfully tossed the scarf back to Charlotte. "Just like you."

Cokie was still caught up in the house discussion. "But, wait, Hermione's smart and she's a Gryffindor."

Charlotte sighed, like this was the hundredth time that day she'd discussed the topic. "I said some. And, anyway, Hermione's different." There was something about the lilt in her voice that made Dr. Johannsen crack a smile.

Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen  
Chapter Sixteen

"What should I do?"

I mulled over Charlotte's question in my mind. "Well, I guess the best way is to just tell them you like them."

"I could never do that! I'd die. Boom. Dead. On the floor." Charlotte crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

We'd been discussing her mystery crush (mysterious to me, not her, because otherwise, that would just be... weird) while Dr. Johannsen and Cokie picked up dinner from the Pizza Hut. I'd been given specific instructions to stay in the car because I'd already done more than my share of hard labor on this date. I started to argue that I had already planned to buy dinner, but Cokie tapped into her inner bitch that used to scare the crap out of me (actually, still did) and forcefully told me to stay put. So I did.

"Hmm... And that's not really going to help you, being dead and all."

Charlotte laughed. "No, it's not."

"You're a great writer... maybe a note?"

That struck a chord with her. "Ma-aybe..."

"Then, unlike me, you won't get your foot stuck in your mouth for saying something lame without thinking."

"Good point. Maybe you should start writing things down, too."

"Hey!" I playfully slapped her with the end of her scarf.

She laughed, again. "I guess I'll work on that tonight, then. So I can have it ready for the party tomorrow."

"You already invited them to the party? That's already a big step, Char."

"Well... they were already planning to be there."

I started going over the roster middle school kids who came to our GSA events. "Jackie Rodowski?" For the record, Charlotte pings my gaydar like crazy, but she'd never really said anything specific about liking girls. Well, except for the whole Hermione thing, but that could have been mutual bookworm, smart kid adoration. I know, I know, that sounds like crap, but we're really adamant about letting the kids figure themselves out, just like we did, so I didn't want to make any presumptions.

"What! No. No way."

"Um... Byron Pike?" I teased.

Now, a lot of the kids who come to the GSA meetings are just supportive and they grew up with us as their sitters, so they know that we can throw pretty swell parties. Byron, however, was not just a simple supporter. If Charlotte pinged, Byron rang like a firehouse alarm bell. All flaming puns intended.

She rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. He'd rather go with Jackie."

"... Vanessa Pike?"

Charlotte smirked. "Nope."

Ping.

The overhead light clicked on as Cokie opened her door and passed me a pizza. "Careful, it's—"

"HOT!" I quickly set it on the seat.

"... hot."

* * *

"And then what?"

"And then we watched the movie and she took me home." I didn't even bother looking up, because I knew Stacey was eyeing me for being a smart ass. "Hand me the socket wrench, again. It's the clicky one."

She slapped it in my hand. "Kristy Thomas, I will beat you for details. Keep in mind that I'm the one who drove you out here at eight in the morning on a SATURDAY."

"We hung out. At her house. Yes, there was more kissing. No, we haven't planned a wedding."

"So... this is gonna be a regular thing. You and Cokie."

"Looks like."

"Weird."

"No, weird is being picked up from your date by a former babysitting client." I tugged on the new fan belt, making sure it was secure.

"Good point."

"Hey, that reminds me, keep an eye on Charlotte this afternoon. She's got it bad for someone and I don't want her passing out because she's so nervous."

"Really? Who?"

I shrugged. "She wouldn't spill." I looked up at Stacey. "I figured you'd know."

Stace shook her head. "She hasn't said anything to me. Which is... unusual."

Charlotte's always been really close with Stacey, ever since Stacey first sat for the Johannsens years ago. Somehow she managed to help ease the super-shy Charlotte out of her shell. What can I say? We were awesome babysitters.

"I think it might be a girl." I tossed the socket wrench into the toolbox, then loaded it into the back of the Junk Bucket.

"You think?"

"Well, it would make sense. And it could be why she doesn't want to tell any of us."

"But that's ridiculous. She knows we'd support her."

"Yeah, but there's also all the other stuff like, admitting to yourself that you're gay." I wiped my greasy hands on my jeans. "It takes a lot to say it out loud to someone else."

Like me and Dawn, three years ago at that slumber party. Up until then, I knew I thought girls were pretty. But then, all girls do that to a point, right? When Mary Anne and I first met Stacey, we spent many a night discussing just how gorgeous she was. We'd had the same kind of discussions about Claudia and her crazy, yet sophisticated fashion sense. And then came Dawn.

She didn't design her own clothes or dress like someone out of a magazine (well, there was that ONE time) but I found myself thinking about her. A lot.

I didn't even really like her at first, because she and Mary Anne bonded so quickly and I got a little... well, jealous. Hey, I was thirteen, okay!

Anyway, things panned out and Dawn joined the BSC and we were all one big happy family. Only without being actually related. Except for Dawn and Mary Anne, who became step-sisters.

Where was I going with this? Oh, right. The slumber party.

Sleepovers seemed to occur, like, every other night during out eighth grade year. Usually they were at my house because it's the biggest and we can gossip and giggle to our heart's content without a parent popping in every five minutes telling us to keep it down. This particular night was a celebration of thwarting one of Cokie's many elaborate evil schemes to break up Logan and Mary Anne. She used to fawn all over him in middle school, which is terribly funny considering the current situation. Amidst the celebrating, I decided to start an innocent food fight which abruptly ended when I sprayed black cherry soda all over Dawn's brand new American Eagle sweater.

I was in the laundry room, searching for the Shout stick Mom always whips out to tackle one of our many stains, when Dawn found me.

"Kristy, it's okay."

"No, it's not. I feel like a lunkhead. I know that sweater's worth at least a week of sitting." I groped around on one of the higher shelves. "A ha!" I produced the Shout stick and handed it to her.

"Thanks."

"Yeah. No problem." And then I just stood there, staring at her, like a dork.

"You okay?"

"Huh?" She was talking to me. Asking if I was okay. "Oh. Um. Yeah." But while my mouth was spitting out one syllable answers, my mind was whirring along at a million miles an hour, choosing this very moment to remind me that I though Dawn was so cool not just because she was from California but because she cared about things like the environment and eating healthy even though I could never commit to eating seeds and tofu and how my stomach kind of generated this weird flip-flop feeling when Dawn tossed her long blonde perfect hair over her shoulder and didn't Dawn look great in that sweater even with the pink stain beginning to set in on it... oh right. The stain. "I'll get you a sweatshirt so you can, um, change."

Dawn nodded.

And then I kissed her. It was just a quick kiss. But it was a kiss. On the lips. Between Kristy Thomas and Dawn Schafer.

We didn't talk about it at all that night. But the next morning, I had to either say something or explode. Really, those were my only options.

Everyone else was still asleep, so I pulled her into the kitchen where I immediately poured myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

"So... we kissed."

"Yeah, Kristy, I know. I was there."

"Right. So... what do we do now?"

"Obviously, we have to get married."

I threw a flake at her. "Is it weird?"

"Kind of." Dawn picked up the sugar cereal piece and flicked it back at me.

"Oh."

"Not because of... I mean... it's just weird because it's you. And me. We're, like, really close friends."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"So, then, you like girls?"

"Uh, it sure looks that way."

"Huh." She started to say more, but then she caught herself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"WHAT?" I threatened to pour the box of sugared cereal on her.

"Okay! I was just going to say that it wasn't a surprise."

"Why? Because I like sports? Or because I won't wear a dress unless someone's getting married."

"More like because your computer desktop looks like Maxim magazine exploded."

"Hey, Eliza Dushku is an amazing actress!"

So it wasn't a deep conversation about sexuality and gender issues, but it was a step.

I just hoped that Charlotte trusted someone enough to confide in them.

* * *

"You know what it reminds me of?" asked Claudia between bite-sized Butterfingers. "When Xander dated Cordelia."

"WHAT? No way. I mean, I get the Cokie to Cordy comparison, but I am NOT Xander." I tied off what felt like the four millionth balloon and let it float to the ceiling of the rec center. "If I'm anyone in Sunnydale, I'm Buffy."

"You're certainly bossy enough to be her," muttered Alan.

I glared at him. "What'd you say?"

At least twenty kids had kicked back RSVP emails, saying they'd be at the party, making this one of the GSA's biggest events so far. I wanted everything to be perfect. This, of course, means I may have been a little over eager in telling people what to do.

"You're certainly saucy enough to be her." He went back to setting up the snack table.

I stepped back to survey the room. It definitely looked Halloweenish. Claudia was drawing vampire faces on several of the balloons while Mary Anne and Stacey were trying to figure out how to work the inflatable Frankenstein we'd found at the party store.

I checked my watch. "Okay, team, it's one-seventeen. We have t-minus two hours and thirteen minutes before we need to be back to greet our guests." Everyone just kind of stared at me. "That means go home and get dressed."

Three hours later, all of our guests had already arrived. Both Alan and Cokie hadn't shown up, yet, though. I expected Alan to be late and I wasn't too worried about Cokie, because the party didn't officially start until four-thirty.

"Woo, Kristy, nice legs!" called Mary Anne from across the room.

She and Logan were the Statue of Liberty and Uncle Sam. I told you they were sickeningly cute.

"Shut up!"

I was dressed as Lara Croft from Tomb Raider, which meant I was wearing shorts and a tank top... in October. Crazy, I know. The costume came out cool, though, and I was armed with loaded water pistols if anyone gave me any trouble.

Stacey was manning the cd player, looking hot as Madonna, circa 1985, complete with wedding dress, crucifix and big hair. Jessi contributed to the 80's theme by dressing as the girl from Flashdance. Claudia's costume, however, was amazing. She was Edward Scissorhands and even had functioning "scissor hands" made out of cardboard, foil and gloves.

The rec center was a sea of characters ranging from a handful of Harry Potters to Byron's authentically detailed Captain Jack Sparrow costume. I spotted Charlotte standing quietly by the punchbowl.

"Shouldn't you be mingling with the other Hogwarts students?" I poured two cup of punch and handed one to her.

Charlotte just took the plastic cup and shrugged.

"Hello, boys and girls," came a high-pitched voice from the entrance.

I turned to see Alan decked out in full Willy Wonka gear. He tipped his hat to the room and glided over to the snack table. When I looked back at Charlotte, she had started up a conversation with the Bride of Frankenstein who was actually her friend Becca Ramsey, Jessi's little sister, who was trying keep her huge Bride of Frankenstein wig from falling off her head. I was about to lend a hand when I got a little... distracted.

Cokie had finally shown up and she was looked... um, hot. She had told me she planned to dress as Gwen Stefani, but it didn't register how well she'd pull it off or how great she'd look.

By the time she walked over to me, I still hadn't managed to get my vocal chords to function.

"Is it just me, or did Johnny Depp's career throw up in here?" asked Cokie.

"Ehrm... the... punch?" I jerked my head toward the punchbowl.

Cokie smirked. "Sure." She took my hand.

It was right about then when Jackie Rodowski thought it would be a good idea to perform the dance that went hand in hand with his Napoleon Dynamite costume. Everything was fine until his shoe flew off and knocked Becca's wig right into the punchbowl.

* * *

The following is based on what Stacey told me after it all happened.

While the rest of us were cleaning up the aftermath of Jackie Rodowski, Charlotte had taken up residence on one of the benches outside the rec center. Stacey spotted her through one of the windows and went outside to join her.

"Anybody sitting here?"

Charlotte shook her head, keeping her knees hugged up against her chest. Stacey slipped onto the seat next to her, bracelets jangling as she did.

"It's not a party till Jackie shatters, spills or stains something, right?"

Charlotte nodded, not taking her eyes off her own shoes.

"You okay?"

"I just... wanted to be by myself for a minute."

"Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?"

Charlotte finally looked up. "Kristy told you?"

"She mentioned it."

"Stupid Kristy."

"Hey, she's just watching out for you."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know... nevermind. I'm going back in."

Stacey put her hand on Charlotte's arm. "We used to talk about this stuff. What's going on?"

"We can't talk about it."

"Since when?"

"Since... oh, hell."

Stacey didn't know whether she should be more surprised at the profanity (Sure, it wasn't a big deal, but anything mildly abrasive out of Charlotte's mouth was unexpected.) or at the folded up paper that landed on her lap. Charlotte disappeared through the doors of the rec center, leaving Stacey alone with the note. (She didn't tell me exactly what it said, just that it was very sweet.)

By the time Stacey came back inside, we discovered that our non-specific Ravenclaw had slipped out the back door. She didn't make it far, though. Stace caught up with her before she got out of the parking lot.

"Hey!"

Charlotte kept walking.

"CHARLOTTE."

There must have been something in Stacey's voice, because she stopped and turned around.

"What?"

"You can't just throw something like this at me and then run away."

"What am I supposed to do? Get rejected to my face in front of everyone?"

"No. It... Char..." Stacey sighed. "This is really sweet. And it means so much to me that you'd come to me with this."

"But."

"But... you're twelve, sweetie."

"I know. Just a kid. I get it." Charlotte started to move toward the street.

"That's not what I mean, exactly." Stacey took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "You're young, okay? So am I, really, in the grand scheme of things. And this," she held up the letter, "This is serious stuff."

Charlotte shoved her hands in her pants pockets. "I was serious when I wrote it. Still am."

"I'm sure you are." She rubbed Charlotte's shoulder. "God, where were you when I was twelve?"

"I was eight. And being babysat by you." Charlotte kicked at the ground.

"Yeah. You were." Stace leaned down and caught her eye. "Look, tell you what. When you're, like, eighteen and I'm twenty-two and we're both done with all the stupid growing up stuff... if you still feel this way, then we can talk about it. For real."

"Six years?"

"A long time, I know."

"That's half my life!" She thought a minute. "Well, it'll only be a third of it by then."

"See, getting closer already."

"You swear? I show up on your doorstep six years from now, you owe me?"

"Swear."

Charlotte nodded. "Okay.

"Come back to the party?"

"I think I'm gonna go home. I'm kinda tired."

Stacey wasn't sure how she, let alone Charlotte, had managed to keep from crying during their entire exchange, but by the time I saw her in the bathroom at the rec center, all that 80's Madonna mascara had washed away.

* * *

In the days of the BSC, whenever something major happened, we'd call an emergency meeting. If possible, we'd immediately file into Claudia's bedroom (our "office" of sorts) and discuss the problem at hand.

When Logan volunteered himself and Alan to clean up the remains of the party and kicked us out of the rec center saying, "Get a burger or a smoothie or whatever it is you girls do when someone's down," going to Claudia's just felt like the next natural step. Granted, none of us really knew all the details, but Stacey looked about as upbeat as the central character in a country song, so we knew she needed us.

"You wanna come, too?" I asked Cokie, as we walked hand-in-hand through the parking lot.

"This looks personal. Plus, I've haven't even started on that English paper that's due Monday." She pulled me in for a kiss. "Call me."

"But..." I looked over her costume, "You ain't no holla back gi—"

She kissed me again, then got into her car.

Fifteen minutes later I was climbing the Kishi's stairs. In the past, we made extra effort to rush past Claudia's older sister's room because Janine is this crazy genius whom always wants to discuss some random nuclear physics equation or something. But Janine was off at college, probably discussing the same equations with people who actually care, so the coast was clear.

Stacey was sitting on the bed, mournfully chewing on red licorice, while Claudia and Mary Anne on either side of her.

Wait, red licorice? "Oh lord, Stacey, whatever happened, it's not worth risking your health over it!" I glared at my other friends for letting this happen. "What are you guys thinking!" Seriously, Stacey has diabetes and if she's not careful about what she eats, she could die.

Mary Anne gave me a Look. "They're sugar free, dork."

"Oh." I collapsed into Claudia's old director's chair, which had been my throne during my reign as BSC president.

Stacey had already given me a brief rundown of her encounter with Charlotte when I found her crying in the rec center. But the extent of what I knew could be boiled down to, "Charlotte-gave-me-this-and-I-didn't-really-know-what-to-say-and-then-she-got-upset-and-walked-home" with a few sobs inserted here and there.

By now she had calmed down and managed to give us a less abbreviated version.

"Oh, wow. That's... wow." Which, in Mary Anne, means she thought it was painfully romantic.

"Are you okay?" asked Claudia.

Stacey shrugged. "I guess. I don't know. It's not like we can date. She's a kid. And a girl. And I'm not... I've never..."

"And you think that'll change in six years?" I asked.

"It might. I was just trying to be fair. Or something. But I wasn't. Hell, Sam was in high school when I liked him." She flopped backward on the bed. "I don't know what to do."

Fortunately (unfortunately?), Stacey didn't have to do anything. That evening, Charlotte dug out her academic scholarship letter from Westlake Academy and made a phone call, asking if she could still take advantage of what they'd offered her, even though the school year had already begun. Normally, most schools would say, "Haha, tough luck, kid. Try again next time." But Charlotte's a whiz kid and Westlake had practically begged her to attend in the first place. Dr. Johannsen wasn't sure what was behind her daughter's sudden change of heart, but a free private school education was too good to turn down, especially if Charlotte expressed genuine interest in it.

Frankly, I can guess exactly what her genuine interest was. Westlake's a boarding school. An all-girl's boarding school. And if I'd just been turned down by the girl I'd been pining for over the last three years, I'd probably pack up and head to Westlake myself.

I, however, was a million miles from rejection. While the Johannsens were getting acquainted with the Westlake grounds over Thanksgiving break, Cokie and I were celebrating our one month anniversary with pizza and a movie (we decided to do without the vehicle breakdown this time).

Despite Charlotte's sudden relocation, Stacey says they're still on good terms. They email each other, like, four thousand times a week. From what I can tell, it's all platonic.

But who knows? Every time I look over at Cokie, I realize that you never have any idea what hand life's gonna deal you. One day, you're running a bra up the flagpole, the next you're finding that bra on your bedroom floor. Er, not that I would find Cokie's bra on my floor... Um... yeah. Gotta run.


End file.
